


A Day in the Life of Max

by Airwing



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-03
Updated: 2014-12-03
Packaged: 2018-02-28 01:24:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2713799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Airwing/pseuds/Airwing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short look into a day in the life of the beloved bulldog,Max Hansen</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life of Max

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SublimeDiscordance](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SublimeDiscordance/gifts).



> _Author's Notes: A short little drabble. For SublimeDiscordance who has had a very rough couple of weeks. I hope he at least smiles a little from reading this. He has such a nice smile, it needs to come back. Note there is mature language and very brief, very generic sexual content._

**A Day in the Life of Max**

It was Monday morning and Max opened his eyes, blinking away the last bits of sleep. Normally he could sleep through his master's morning routine but Chuck was abnormally loud that morning. Swearing, throwing things.

Must have lost something again. Or Raleigh pissed him off already, the bulldog thought. He snorted, the closest he could get to a laugh. Sometimes he really hated how he couldn't just burst out in laughter the way his owner did, but dogs just weren't meant to do that. He could bark, but it wasn't the same.

Max lowered his head and closed his eyes, feigning sleep. He hated when Chuck was in a mood. it meant he would rush things and that usually resulted in a water bowl that half of the liquid splashed out of when he set it down and dry kibble as opposed to the mixture of dry and wet that he was spoiled to.

This day he was lucky. Although Chuck was in a temper, he set the bowl down gently and still plopped the can of wet dog food on top of the kibble. He didn't mix it up though. Can't be too picky I guess. Maybe he'll be better by lunchtime. 

Chuck left, Max feeling sorry for anyone who crossed his path until he got the stick out of his ass. Raleigh in particular. It never failed--any time that Chuck was pissy, he took it out on Raleigh. Max still didn't understand their relationship, but humans were weird anyway.

The bulldog waited several minutes until he was sure his master was gone from the hall, spending that time drinking and eating his unmixed food, and then nudged his head against the button on the wall, next to the door. It worked the same any handicap door button did--one push and the door slid open, about fifteen seconds pass and then it slid closed again. The closest to a doggy door they could arrange.

The hall was always busy this time of morning. Rangers and cadets hustling to their training or work outs or classes. Meetings, simulators, practice runs. Thank God dogs don't have to deal with that crap. 

Smart enough to stay to the side, away from trampling feet, Max made his way down the halls until he reached the exit to the courtyard next to the mess hall. He needed to go to the bathroom but this door had no push button. He sat there, waiting for someone to enter or exit. He daren't bark to insist exit. Chuck had impressed upon him more than once that one of the only reasons Max was even allowed to stay at the Shatterdome was because he was a 'quiet, good dog'. 

Finally one of the techs hurried out the door, Max squeezing through just before it closed. It was warm out but thankfully not hot. It felt good to him. Now I need a tree or a bush... tree or bush, tree or bush, come on bushy tree...

He trotted quickly to one of the bushes near the back of the courtyard, where Chuck usually took him to do his business. With a doggy sigh of relief, he lifted his leg and relieved himself. Damn cats don't know how lucky they are, those sandboxes inside. They don't have to hold it. Fuckers.

Satisfied, he decided to enjoy the rest of the day outdoors in the sunshine. He liked to watch the hustling and bustling of the staff. He loved the spray of moisture from the waves as they crashed against the cement wall at the farthest end of the jaeger dock. He wouldn't go swimming though. Not without Chuck. And not this time of year. It hadn't warmed up enough yet for the water to not be too cold and there was always the chance that he could get swept up in a wave or tide and then no more Max. 

When he tired of walking around, interrupting the occasional birds at play with a hefty lunge of his bulk toward their chirping and unaware bodies, he found a shade tree and lay down for a nap.

Hours later--he doesn't know how many, but the sun has started to set--he awake with a hunger in his stomach. He doesn't have to wait long for the door to open this time and gallops right on it. His head turns from side to side as he scans the tables for Chuck, or even better, the Kaidonovsky man. 

Aleksis Kaidonovsky was a bear of a man, bigger than any human Max had ever seen, but the stern faced man was a kind soul, at least to the wrinkly dog. There he is. I hope it's chicken tonight. Please be chicken. He usually gives me a whole leg if it's chicken. Chicken, chicken, chicken, come on chicken.

To his delight, the smell of roasted chicken filled his nostrils as he neared the bulky man. He came up beside him at the table, his tongue hanging out, tail wagging as he panted eagerly. 

Aleksis said something in Russian, a language Max had no desire to learn because it didn't matter what the man said as long as he dropped his hand down with that wonderful piece of chicken.

Max took the treat with pure delight, savoring the taste of roasted bird on his tongue. Oh fuck this is good. I love chicken. Chicken more than anything else. Why can't Chuck give me more chicken? That dog food is shit compared to this. Give me some fucking chicken, Chuck!

When the morsel of food had been woofed down, Max licked the man's giant hand in gratitude. To his unexpected pleasure, a smaller, softer hand dropped down on the other side of him. He turned his head, looking up at the very slight smile looking down at him. 

It was the Russian woman with hair too blonde and paint on her lips. Bright red paint of some kind, Max had decided the first time he saw her because no human could possibly ever have lips that vivid. She rarely smiled, in fact she usually had a confident smirk or a disapproving sneer on her features, but this new bit of affection came with more than just a smile. It was accompanied by... Another fucking piece of fucking chicken! I don't know why you chose today to be so nice but my God a second piece of chicken, a second fucking piece of chicken!

Sasha said something in Russian, followed by a 'good dog,' in English and allowed her hand to also be licked clean. Max loved the two Russians. They were the only ones to ever give him treats of 'people food'. Herc on a very rare occasion might sneak him the leftover bone from a leg, sometimes with enough meat to tease him, and Raleigh would sometimes give him some other random food item--usually to annoy Chuck. Nobody else though. As much as he loved Chuck, the redheaded human never gave him human food. Chuck was a big believer that human food could be bad for a dog's health and other than his dick, nothing else ranked as high on his 'valued possession' list than the bulldog. Chuck did give him dog bones, but only those approved by the dog food administration, or whatever goofy name had been given to them--the humans in charge.

Turning away form his heroes, Max spotted Herc over at another table. The man was eating alone, not an unusual thing at all. The dog made the effort to lean back on his haunches and put his paws on the bench, looking up at his master's master. That's how he liked to think of Herc. Especially those times Chuck was in a particularly sour mood and Herc would shut him down. 

Herc didn't say anything but pet him on the head, scratching his wrinkles and accepting the wet nose and tongue licks of affection. Once he stopped, Max figured it was time to move on. 

I wonder what Chuck and Raleigh are up to. They're usually down here scarfing their chicken down, right in front of me, too, the greedy bastards. If only they knew. The secrets I know, I could blackmail them into all the chicken in the world if I could speak human. 

Max gave out a quiet growl--the equivalent to a giggle--as he walked down the halls toward his room. Oh yes, all the secrets. Chuck's bad habits, his naughty habits. Oh that kid sure is a perv. If Herc saw his laptop he might shit himself. All that porn. I've watched that boy shuck his shaft enough times I could see it in my sleep. And not just regular porn either, but kinky stuff. Stuff with handcuffs and rope. Good thing dogs don't do all that. That's too weird. Especially when they put collars on and start using fake body parts and stuff. Weird as--oh bloody fucking hell.

The bulldog's inner monologue was immediately quelled when he walked into his room. On the bed, yet again, was Raleigh and Chuck, with the blond on all fours, panting and moaning as he was mounted by the slightly bulkier redhead. 

Again? These humans fuck more than a whole pound of dogs! I still don't get it. Stuffing things up their asses and all that. I'll be damned if a pooch is stuffing that knot up in my asshole. I wonder if theirs swell up too?

Both men were moaning and panting, Chuck speeding up faster and faster until he let out a loud grunt, making several very hard, deep thrusts into the other ranger. Raleigh's hand was going a mile a minute on his own erection until he also let out a grunt, white stuff landing on the sheets.

After a couple minutes of recovery, Chuck crawled off the bed and stood up, finally noticing his beloved pet. He reached his hand out, aiming for Max's head.

Oh don't you pet me you dirty fucker, I don't want that nasty white stuff in my fur again! It stinks and it's hard to get off and it gets all stiff and oh you fucking asshole you didn't just do that!

Max growled, annoyed, as Chuck ran his hand along his furry head, scratching behind Max's ears. 

I got a trick for you this time. I'm following you in the shower and you can wash me off since you got my coat dirty. Yep, dirty me up, clean me up.

Max did just that, leaping into the shower before Chuck had a chance to shut the door. The man let out a sound of agitation then quickly got over it. 

After a nice, quick shower and a thorough toweling off, Max felt loads better. No more smelly, sticky gunk in his fur and now his master and mate would cuddle up on the bed, watch a movie, and then drift off to an early sleep. 

Finally, I can lay at the foot of the bed and-- But there was no peace for Max. Not tonight. Chuck motioned for him to lay between himself and Raleigh, urging him to snuggle with them. Rolling his dog eyes the best he could, the bulldog wedged himself between the two, and allowed himself to be stroked to sleep, all to do it all over again the next day.


End file.
